Can't Hurry Love: Jim's First Time
by Georgshadow
Summary: Companion piece to "Can't Hurry Love." Extended smut from the end of chapter 1.


This was originally supposed to be part of the first chapter of Can't Hurry Love, but being as I'm trying to include less blatant sex in my longer fics for readers who aren't as interested in smut, I decided to write it as a longer piece and post it separately. Consider it Chapter 1.5—it picks up right after the first chapter and leads into the beginning of the second.

* * *

As the clothes came off, Pete hungrily ran his hands over Jim's chest, digging his fingers into the hard muscles he could feel deep below the thick brown hair. Still rippling with youthful energy, Jim's body had a tautness that his own had resembled what seemed like only yesterday. And as he devoured those firm shoulders and biceps, he could feel Jim do the same, except that his grasp was full of love handles and tired skin. In response to Pete's pondering, Jim buried his face in his shoulder and sighed as he pushed himself hard against Pete's hip.

"You…" his voice was rough and he hesitated to speak. He grumbled when he couldn't find the words. "I want you," he sighed finally.

"I know," Pete teased, taking Jim's arm and guiding him to his bed. As he settled in Jim instinctively opened the nightstand drawer and found the trusty pot of hand lotion. He was a creature of habit and he did what he was supposed to without prompt, whether it was heading for the passenger's side of the squad car and never _ever_ asking to drive, or readying himself and Pete when they were together like this.

But it was different tonight. As many times as they'd had each other—Pete had lost count—Jim had yet to be taken. It would be his first time and Pete had decided to wait until Jim was ready. He knew he'd ask for it eventually.

It wasn't to say that Pete had a problem being on his back for Jim. The fact of the matter was that Pete still felt like the one in absolute control when he let Jim take him. Perhaps it was because of the way Jim would twitch and shudder with anticipation, and plead for it when he got himself so worked up he couldn't stand it. Maybe it was the look of gratitude and even admiration that Jim would get every time Pete parted his legs.

Maybe it was knowing that Jim was in love with him—a thought he instinctively put out of his mind as soon as he imagined it.

Whatever it was, he felt it tenfold the first time he took Jim.

Kneeling on the bed, Pete tried to be as patient as he could. It was difficult, as turned on as he already was, but he knew he needed to be careful. Jim was the kind of guy who had a hard time getting over things, and if his first time was a bad one, who knew if he'd ever want to do it again.

"Lay down," Pete said, taking the lotion from him and trying to ease him onto his back.

Wide-eyed and suddenly very quiet, Jim nodded and sat back, waiting for Pete's instruction.

Pete gazed at the body sprawled beside him. He'd imagined this so many times, even long before they were together, but now that it was really happening, he found himself hesitating. How many times had he done this? How many years ago had he crossed that threshold from being a boy to being a man, and yet _now_ he was worried about what to do?

"You really…" Jim smiled meekly and shook his head.

"I really what?" Pete prompted, unable to keep himself from smiling too, even as he rested his weight on Jim's body and took to kissing the soft skin under his jaw.

"You really… make me hot, Pete," Jim sighed, his voice hardly a whisper.

"Yeah," Pete replied, withdrawing long enough to size up the younger man's full reaction. Grinning almost proudly at the state he was in, he added, "I know."

Jim blushed and glanced away, squirming against the bed, arching his back to press himself against Pete. At the contact, he made himself sigh, and a moment later he met Pete's eyes again, still blushing as he bent to return to his lips.

Almost more erotic than anything else, Pete found himself pondering, was the way Jim became putty in his hands at just a touch. The way he quivered as Pete held him tight by the waist was almost enough to make him forget that _he_ was the one who was always giving in. He was the one who couldn't resist those doey blue eyes and those pale pink lips. He was the one who set firm rules for himself but broke them at the first sight of a crease in Jim's brow. Even then in that moment, the burning need rising in his gut was for the man who was shivering under his hands, not for himself. His desire to satisfy was twice of that to be satisfied.

It frustrated him tremendously to think that he was so enamored of an overeager, headstrong, smart-aleck _kid_. But he could never stay mad, no matter how hard he tried. Especially in a moment like this, with Jim's open mouth pressed tight against his own, his fingers hesitantly tracing a line down his chest.

When he was absolutely certain it was what Jim wanted, Pete gave in yet again. Kneeling beside him, he slid a hand between Jim's thighs, starting slow when he could feel Jim tremble under his touch. Pete couldn't imagine how nervous he must've been. How long ago had it been his own first time? All those years hadn't weakened the memory of that heavy weight in his chest, the butterflies in his gut. Even then, he knew it was still a different experience. His first time had been with someone his own age. Another punk kid just out of high school was a lot less intimidating than the 37-year-old training officer who gave orders by day and blowjobs by night.

But in all his years of experience, though, Pete had learned the necessity of being gentle, and he hoped Jim would remember that, too. Jim, to his credit, was still rock-hard and he gave a bold grin when Pete met his eyes.

"Alright, spread 'em," Pete grumbled. As spooked as Jim surely was, he couldn't let himself be _too_ tender.

Jim must've understood that, because he brought up his legs without question or waver. He laid his head back on the pillow and folded his shaking hands on his stomach.

Taking the lid off the pot of hand lotion, Pete gazed at that delicate part of Jim, somehow too sentimental all at once to think about the many fantasies he'd had in the time he'd known the guy. All those groggy daydreams about throwing Jim onto the bed or bending him over the hood of his car, spitting into his hand and holding him by the ankles and taking him rough and brutal… now that was gone, and the biggest thing on his mind as he brushed his thumb through the coarse hair and over the hot, velvety skin was the way Jim's jaw clenched and breath caught.

There was no point in extending the anticipation any longer. In that moment, he felt like he could sit there and simply touch Jim all day, but he knew what Jim wanted, and he wanted to give him what he wanted.

He stirred the jar and brought his hand back, gently pushing in his middle finger. Whoever groaned first, Pete couldn't say, but it wasn't just Jim. The feeling of that tight, pure opening around his finger was more than enough to remind him of his own burgeoning arousal.

He was almost too tight, Pete worried. They should've spent more time easing him into it, just a finger or two every night for a while at first, and then see if he liked it. But even then, Pete knew Jim didn't have the patience for that. He was so stubborn he'd sacrifice a great deal of his own comfort just so he could say he knew how it felt.

Interrupting Pete's train of thought, Jim bit his lip and whimpered. It wasn't pain, Pete knew. That would come later. It was the knowledge of being entered for the first time in his life. Pete sincerely hoped that there was still an edge of excitement in that feeling.

When he'd moved the finger enough times that he was sure Jim was used to it, he slowly slid in a second, feeling Jim's breath hitch from the inside. At two fingers Jim's body started to resist. His nerves getting the best of him, he unconsciously tightened and strained.

"Relax, dammit," Pete ordered. Then after a moment of thought, tried, "Do you wanna stop?"

Jim firmly shook his head.

Studying Jim's face, uncertain about his reaction, Pete hesitantly continued, pulling the fingers out, stretching them apart, plunging them back in. Finally he let himself drag his hand hard against the side, his fingertips grazing the knot that made Jim's eyes flutter open and his hands twitch.

"Pete," he moaned, his face reddening. "Pete…" his voice was pleading.

"Give it a few more minutes," Pete instructed, not sure if Jim would listen even if he ordered him to. "You're not ready yet."

"I _am_ ready," Jim breathed.

Trying to oblige him, Pete crouched between the raised knees and took hold of Jim's dick with his free hand, keeping his fingers steady. "I'll get ya off like this," he said.

Jim shook his head like a truculent child and swatted Pete's hand away. "All the way or not at all," he spoke quickly, forcing out the words between Pete's movements.

As Jim fussed Pete would feel him finally loosening, perhaps too distracted by his own frustration to be nervous. Smiling at the way Jim's strange mind worked, he removed his hand and wiped his greasy fingers on Jim's belly.

"Hey!" Jim's protest was cut short as Pete grabbed him by the knees and pulled him closer, settling in by his hips as he balanced Jim's long, muscular legs over his shoulders.

As Pete had expected, Jim grew suddenly silent. With his hips elevated and his weight driving his shoulders into the bed, he anxiously grasped at Pete's arms to pull himself up.

Gazing hungrily at Jim's body, prone and vulnerable as it was, Pete let go of one of Jim's calves long enough to rub some more of the lotion on himself and then toss the jar aside. Jim's grasp tightened on Pete's biceps as Pete steadied himself and then plunged in quick, telling himself it would be easier for Jim that way.

Jim had been holding his breath in anticipation, and at Pete's sudden entrance he gasped violently, too shocked for inhibition, his face turning bright red. He let out the breath in a long choked moan which he was clearly trying to stifle.

All attempts to come across as unfazed were quickly forgotten. While Jim was struggling to stay calm, so was Pete. It had been so long since he'd been with someone who was, in this sense at least, a virgin. It had been even longer since he'd been with someone who sent a shiver down his spine when he gazed down at their handsome, flushed face. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been less overwhelmed by the body beneath him than the personality it belonged to.

"C'mon, relax," Pete tried to sound as reassuring as he could while buried deep inside someone who drove him wild with need. "We'll take it slow."

Jim's breath came in short gasps. His pupils were miles wide and his voice was a timid squeak as he whispered, "F-fuck me." Pete wasn't sure if the wary look was from the use of the word. Nonetheless he leaned into Jim's frantic grasp and kissed his open mouth.

His voice was a deep, resonating rumble. Knowing exactly what reaction it would bring, he growled, "You feel good, Jim. _Goddamn_, you feel good."

In response, Jim whimpered again, this time less stifled, and less startled.

Telling himself once again that Jim was ready, Pete leaned back and held Jim's legs up and apart. Slowly he pulled back his hips, using every fiber of will to be gentle when he pushed back in. It took everything he had not to thrust hard into that impossibly tight heat. Even as Jim bit his lip and released his arms, falling back onto the bed dramatically, Pete still dreaded to think that he was causing him any pain.

"You're doin'—ya alright?" Pete panted, surprised by the effort it took to string the shortest sentence together.

"_God_, Pete," Jim cried out in a voice he'd used only a few times since they'd known each other. "Please, please."

It _was_ longing, wasn't it? Jim wasn't just trying to appease him? Pete wasn't in any state to reason with himself. He prayed that the need in Jim's voice wasn't just an illusion. He prayed that the gravelly gasps escaping that beautiful mouth had nothing to do with discomfort.

The sweat drenching both of them caused Jim's legs to slide lower down Pete's arms with every movement. Pete kept a steady rhythm. Words were replaced with Jim's moans and Pete's grunts. Discourse was quieted by the soft beat of skin against skin. Reaching a sort of zen, Jim's lips were parted over loosely clenched teeth. His dark lashes fluttered unconsciously on his cheeks.

He was _so_ beautiful. His body was so perfect, so deliciously tight and hot. Pete hated the end. He scorned his release. Digging strong fingers hard into Jim's hips, it wasn't a moment after he came that he cursed the fleeting nature of it. How could something as precious as Jim's very first time be so short? The violent rush of adrenaline led Pete nearly to weep as his muscles ceased up and he struggled to maintain his grip on Jim's body.

"D-did you…" Jim opened his eyes as Pete wrapped a weary hand around his dick, summoning enough strength to make it good for Jim, too. Jim struggled to sit up, eagerly watching Pete pull out.

When he saw the glistening evidence of Pete's completion, he let out a sharp groan and threw back his head, coming into Pete's limp hand. His legs finally slipped off from Pete's arms, falling open on the bed. The fists clenching the balled-up sheet loosened and after that Pete could only feel Jim's body shaking beneath him.

Jim was strong enough to gasp for air even with Pete's weight on top of him. Eventually as his pulse slowed Pete could feel the hot breath against his sweaty forehead, and he reluctantly rolled off and fanned himself with a sticky hand.

"Open the window," he ordered, too tired for tenderness.

Jim nodded silently, leaping up and shuddering hard as he staggered to his feet. His gait was visibly stilted, and Pete sincerely wondered whether he'd really enjoyed it after all. Probably not, he told himself dejectedly, watching Jim push open the sliding glass and press his face against the screen.

The silence was short. Jim sighed and turned from the window to glance back at him.

"Pete?" his voice was shaky. So much for that, thought Pete. At least he'd gotten one fuck out of the guy.

"Yeah?" Pete answered, imagining Jim's struggle trying to tell him how awful it'd been.

Jim clasped his hands and took a deep breath, releasing it through pursed lips. Then, keeping his eyes trained on the floor, began to smile.

"Thanks," he said.

Pete scoffed in disbelief. Not sure what else to say, he choked, "For _what_?"

Jim wrung his hands and tried to meet Pete's eyes, looking away shyly after only a short moment. "I-I've never felt so close to anyone before. Never like this. I…"

Pete's heart was trapped somewhere in his throat. He wanted to say a million things at once, and everything seemed to get tangled up before he could figure out a single sentence. Jim swayed tiredly in front of the window, the softest breeze sweeping through the room and mussing up his hair. His chiseled cheekbones continued to rise with the nervous smile.

"Go get cleaned up, ya knucklehead." Pete couldn't surrender to the feeling that tried to come over him. He wouldn't. Not even for Jim.

The smile lingered as Jim scurried off into the bathroom. Pete lay back on the bed and stared through the open window, watching the screen billow in the cool evening breeze.


End file.
